


CAPSTARA WEEK 08

by darkelf19



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, Angst, CAPSTARA WEEK, Complete, Crack, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH: Chapter 3, dark!fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-24
Updated: 2017-06-24
Packaged: 2018-11-18 06:43:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 2,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11285823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkelf19/pseuds/darkelf19
Summary: 7 days of Zutara !Warnings: May contain anything from spoilers and fluff to Dark! and Crack!fics1st publish on FF.net 8/1/2009Each chapter is a stand alone story. Chapter 3 is a Dark!fic with major character death.





	1. Unreasonable

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Avatar the Last Airbender copyright Dante Dimartino, Brian Konietzko and Nickelodeon Studios.

**Unreasonable**

He considered himself a reasonable man. And he had always acted as a reasonable man, even in unreasonable times. However he had never found himself in such an unreasonable circumstance before. So how did one act reasonably when reason had obviously failed and lead to such an unreasonable situation?

One didn’t. Which explained why he, a perfectly reasonable man, was now sneaking around like a common thief; plotting, bribing, tampering and doing whatever else it took to create reason from the unreasonable.

He blamed it all on his unreasonable nephew, though the young waterbender too had proved unreasonable, as the reason he, an elderly gentleman who by right should be bouncing burbling grandchildren on his knees, was forced to take such unreasonable actions. And at his age!

Still the thought of blue eyed, black haired babies was enough to hold him to his path of unreasonable actions. And he knew, in time, both would come to understand.

As the last of the White Lotus vanished from sight, the most reasonable of them still laughing as he bounded from rock to rock with the bundle in tow, he breathed a sigh of relief. His nephew, no doubt, would continue to be unreasonable for a time, he always was, but the young waterbender would be there to help him see reason. And with reason restored they would see what every other reasonable person saw.

Especially now that the unreasonable dagger lipped girl was out of the picture. If she’d only listened to reason…


	2. Slippery When Wet

**Slippery When Wet**

_Love is like a newly caught fish. If you don’t hold onto it carefully, it’ll slip away from you._  

* * *

 

 

“…like fishing.”

“FISHING?!” I stared at him incredulously. Toph had been right, that writer did have him pegged. “You’re comparing love to fishing?! Forget I asked!”

“Have you ever been fishing?”

I paused, my face pinking slightly.

“Didn’t think so,” he said smugly.

I glared at him, pleased to see that still had some effect, as he looked away quickly.

“Anyways, when you pull the fish out of the water it’s wet, slimy. If you don’t hold onto it tightly you’ll drop it.”

His gaze settled on the small audience watching as she instructed the Avatar, his eyes softening as he spotted the young warrior. I followed his gaze, my heartbeat quickening at the sight of another warrior, although I still didn’t understand what he was talking about. Really, he was worse than Uncle!

“It’s the same with love; you’ve got to hold onto it, or it’ll slip away from you.”

I said nothing, merely watching as she finished her lesson. The Avatar bowed and left, presumably to continue his training with his earthbending master. She summoned a stream of water, continuing her own exercises. Beside me the grass rustled as the boy stood. His eyes held mine for a long moment, before drifting to where she still practiced. He remained silent for a long time and I feared the worst.

“Aang’s too soft. She needs a real sparring partner.” He gave me a pointed look. “Just…don’t hurt her.”

He walked away, waving enthusiastically to the Kyoshi warrior, as I stared on in shock. My mind was still reeling when I heard her calling my name, asking me if I was up for a little practice; that is if I wasn’t afraid of a little water.

I smiled, taunting her in return, silently thanking Agni for this chance. I wouldn’t let it slip away.


	3. Dinner for Two

**Dinner for Two**

 

She winced, rolling her head slowly, imaging it was her arms she moved; stretched wide, muscles pulled taunt, they burned with the need of movement. She licked her cracked lips receiving no relief. The air was thick, stiflingly hot. She longed for the cool taste of water; on her tongue, trickling across her skin, rushing through her fingers, bending to her will.

She lifted her head slowly, her muscles protesting sharply. She smacked her lips uselessly, focusing her eyes on the suffocating darkness, hoping that perhaps today it would reveal something useful. She wondered how much time had passed since their defeat. At first she’d counted each rise and fall of the moon’s cycle, tried to keep some idea of many weeks had passed. Somewhere she’d lost count. It didn’t matter; time had no place in this nothingness. Nothing did.

There was nothing here. Not even the rats would venture into this hell; at least not anymore. They used to come; they used to bite and chew and devour, she used to cry and scream and bleed. But she was a waterbender, a very special waterbender, a bloodbender. With flicks of her fingers she had stopped their teeth, stopped their hearts. And when the guards came, taunting and cruel, she’d stopped their hearts too. They didn’t come anymore.

A noise echoed through the thick air as the blackness was suddenly speared by a blinding white. She turned her head, her eyes unable to withstand the piercing light. Heavy footsteps sounded directly before her and she flexed her fingers, a cruel smile playing at her lips. It’d been a long time since she’d had anyone to play with.

She lifted her head, fixing his silhouette with a piercing glare, and reached for his heart. Her smile widened at his quick intake of air and she imagined his eyes bulging behind his ugly iron face. She dropped her finger, delighted when his knees followed. He was hers. The thought struck her as amusing; idly she wondered what else she could make him do. She moved a finger and his arm followed, again and his legs danced. She laughed, enjoying her dark game.

He had yet to offer any sort of resistance, and it appeared his fellow guards were uninterested in his plight. Her eyes grew cold. She would have some measure of revenge, and he would provide it. She recalled the first days following her imprisonment, the jeers and suggestions and even a few daring touches. Her face contorted with hate, his blood jumped; his first real attempt at resisting her. She smirked. It was too late for that.

Flicking her wrist she threw him to his knees with bone shattering force, relishing his scream. A curl of her finger and he was dragging himself towards her, the over her. The cruel smile returned to her lips, fiery hate burning in her eyes. She studied his iron face for a moment before looking up as it was removed. He was her prisoner, not her lover. She didn’t want to see his face. His blood jumped again, as she deliberately spread her legs, though not in resistance this time. She felt his heat increase with the rush of his blood, and her own blood quickened in response. Then she dropped her finger and his head followed.

His lips were lips the cool water she’d longed for. She gasped, her back arching, as his tongue flicked across her heated skin. She tilted her hips giving him better access and moaned loudly as his tongue darted inside her. She was panting now, struggling to keep him under her control, though a part of her wondered if it was even necessary anymore. He seemed quite content to continue his attentions without any prodding. She loosened her hold, slightly, and was rewarded with strong hands caressing her feverish skin. She whimpered at the sudden loss of his tongue, fumbling to regain her hold, only to gasp as she felt his fingers slid roughly into her. He was panting now, his breath coming hot and ragged against her skin. She squirmed against him furiously, needing release from the tension building inside her. A long moan rushed from her mouth, her head snapping back as pleasure as blinding as the light pierced her.

She relaxed against the stone wall, for once thankful for its support, her mind drifting slowly back to itself. She frowned at the pawing hands, seizing hold of him once more. He jerked and the quiet sound of metal sounded. Her eyes widened, spotting the fallen key. She flicked her fingers and it was in his hand, then in the lock and then she was free.

She took a hesitant step forward, then another. She crushed his heart and he fell with a satisfying thump. Another step, then another, and she walked out of her hell. She met no resistance outside her cell, or as she climbed the staircase to freedom. The sunlight was even more blinding outside and she stood for several moments in the shadows, simply breathing in the fresh air, a light winding pulling at her tangled white-streaked locks.

“Katara?”

She turned abruptly towards the hesitant voice, seizing his blood in an instant. He choked, his eyes going wide and she faltered. His face had become squarer and grown a bit of hair, his shoulders were broader and his hair was streaked with gray, but his eyes were the same blue she remembered. She let him go, her eyes darting to another familiar figure landing beside him. He’d grown as well. The young boy she remembered had grown old, though she thought his baldness seemed more fitting now.

“Where’s Zuko?”

She gave them a questioning look, only now becoming aware of the bodies strewn about the magnificent garden. A battle had been fought; dozens of Fire Nation soldiers littered the ground in a dizzying display of red.

“He said he was going to check the dungeons, to see if…”

Her mind drifted back to the man in her cell, remembering how he hadn’t resisted her, remembering how gentle his touch had been. Her shoulders shook as she collapsed against the wall, hysterical laughter mixing with her tears. Hell, it seemed, was inescapable.


	4. Poor Some Sugar on Me

**Poor Some Sugar on Me**

 

She’d been reluctant when the servants had all but dragged her from his side, insisting she needed to look after herself now that she’d seen to his needs. When they shoved her unceremoniously into the bath house she’d been insulted, and when they’d stripped her and shoved her into the steaming water she’d been furious. Now however, as she made her way back to his rooms, her skin practically glowing from the impromptu spa treatments and permagrin plastered on her face, she was deliciously rejuvenated.

He was awake, and angry, as she practically glided into the room. He stopped short, his eyes focusing on her the tension visibility draining from his body. She smiled even wider realizing he’d been worried about her and wondering why she was suddenly feeling so giddy. It had to be the spa treatment; she just wasn’t used to such luxuries.

The poor servant he’d been ready to blast made a hasty retreat leaving them alone. She crossed the short distance to his bed, carefully peeling back the bandages. The wound was still raw and would require several more healings; she’d be here for a few weeks at least. With a wave of her hand she summoned the water from a nearby basin, placing her coated hands over the wound, the water glowing brightly as she focused her energy.

He was leaning into her slightly, breathing deeply and she wondered if he was in pain, though the medicinal tea they’d given him earlier should’ve taken care of what her healing had not. She turned her head, her eyes catching his. Her breath and heart stopped for one impossible moment at the intensity in his gaze. Wordlessly he leaned closer, his lips gently caressing her cheek, trailing along her jaw and then, ever so softly, pressing against her lips.

Her eyes drifted close, her lips parting ever so slightly and then his tongue was running along her lips, tangling with her tongue as he pulled her closer. He was warm, burning, and it was making her dizzy. Trembling she leaned into him, her hands sliding up his chest, as something sparking to life inside her. She yearned for more.

He pulled away and she realized he was trembling too. He rested his head against hers, just staring into her eyes as they both caught their breath, smiling stupidly at one another. She was blushing, but so was he, and she laughed, burying her face in his shoulder. Then he was laughing too, holding her tightly to him, his nose pressed against her neck, his breath tickling her.

He tugged at her robe, his one eyebrow rising in question. She giggled regaling him with the details of her abduction and forced luxuries, noting his particular interest with the exfoliating sugar scrub and subsequent oil treatment. He laughed when she huffed about the servants making off with her blue robes leaving her the option of nudity or the simple, yet silky, red robe she now wore.

His eyes twinkled mischievously as he leaned into her, his lips murmuring against her skin as he nibbled his way to her lips. “I should warn you, I’m renowned for my sweet tooth.”


	5. Taste Like Chocolate

**Taste Like Chocolate**

 

She loved him. He loved her. He loved another.

Sometimes, secretly, she suspected he loved the other more than her.

She told herself that it was her fault, that somehow she had failed him. She told herself that she should’ve been firm and discouraged his fantasy when he’d first suggested bringing the other to their bed; but she hadn’t.

She told herself it could’ve been worse; that he could’ve hid the other from her, like so many courtesan husbands did. She told herself that she should be honored; he had never hidden his desire from her, never lied to her, and in doing so they were stronger. The other courtesan wives were not so fortunate, often discovering of their husband’s wayward practices through court gossip, much to their embarrassment.

Still as she stood outside his chambers, listening to the muffled moans, she felt a pang of envy. He never moaned like that for her! She turned, remembering the careful instruction she’d received. A proper wife did not question her husband. A proper wife supported her husband…in every decision.

She froze, her jealously overcoming years of training, as another long moan echoed behind her; spinning on her heel she threw the doors open wide with a loud bang. They froze as her shadow fell over them, perhaps shocked by her sudden intrusion, or perhaps just by the look on fury on her face.

Her husband frowned at her, propping himself up as much as he could beneath the watertribe peasant straddling his…hips. She frowned back, her eyes narrowing as she looked from the dark skinned beauty to her pale husband to the sugary treat smeared across his chest.

Wordlessly she removed her robes, letting them fall to the floor, two pairs of eyes watching her curiously. She nodded at the chocolaty mess on Zuko’s chest, her eyes holding Katara’s. “Teach me.”  


	6. Of Epic Proportions

**Of Epic Proportions**

 

His banishment had taught him many things: humility, truth, temperance, perseverance, stealth, bravery, forgiveness; most importantly of all it had taught him patience. It was a lesson well learned.

Smiling mentally, he slipped between them, claiming the open seat even as the Avatar blubbered before, finally, dejectedly plopping into his own seat beside the former prince. The waterbender spared them a curious look having finally realized something was amuck, brushing back her hair in a manner he’d come to recognize as shyness, as she took in his proximity.

His face remained a mask of indifference even as his mental smile widened. Score Zuko 2, Avatar 0. It was promising to be a good evening.


	7. Masquerade

**Masquerade**

 

Everyone wears masks. Some are visible some are not. Some are brightly colored, some are flesh colored. Some are decorative, some abstracted and some of the best simply there.

His was unique with a strip of red flesh, perfectly schooled by cruelty, humility, pain and suffering.

Hers was motherly, caring and nurturing, crafted from despair and need, survival.

They were two of a kind, though they didn’t yet know it. Both wore their masks proudly, for different reasons that were exactly the same.


End file.
